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But as quickly as that warmth had washed over me, it faded. My smile dwindled as the memory of Matteo's situation resurfaced.
At that moment, anger burned within me, stoked by the audacity of Francisco's actions. He sought to take from me the two most precious things in this world—Matteo and our newborn daughter.
I made a silent vow deep within my heart. Francisco might have taken Matteo from me for now, but I would bring him down, no matter the cost.
Chapter 42
Matteo
When I regained consciousness, I found myself in a small room. The room was pitch-black, illuminated only by a feeble, distant light seeping through a tiny window, the glass covered to obscure any view of the outside world.
My head throbbed with a persistent ache, and the dull awareness of pain radiated from various parts of my body.
The restraints that bound me were cold, cutting into my wrists and ankles. I tugged at them, testing their strength, but they held firm. Panic gnawed at the edges of my mind, but I swallowed it.
As my eyes adjusted to the dimness, I began to take stock of my surroundings. The room lacked any furniture or decoration except for the harsh, unyielding walls that seemed to close in on me.
It didn't take long for my captor to make his presence known. The sound of a heavy door creaking open sliced through the silence, and a sliver of blinding light pierced the darkness.
Francisco entered, flanked by his hulking henchmen.
A cruel smile twisted his lips as he sauntered forward, and I could feel the weight of his malevolent intent in the air. I knew then that I was in for a rough time.
“Are you ready to have fun?” Francisco grinned.
The room was a grim chamber of despair, shrouded in oppressive darkness. I was barely conscious, my battered body a canvas of agony.
My head throbbed from the relentless blows I had endured, and my vision swayed in and out of focus.
Francisco, the architect of my torment, smiled wickedly as he approached, his malevolent intent palpable. His henchmen had done their work well, delivering heavy blows that left my face swollen and bloodied.
Bruises adorned my torso like a grotesque tapestry, each reminding me of the brutality I had suffered.
But the physical pain, excruciating as it was, paled compared to the mental anguish.
Francisco reveled in psychological torment, his taunts and threats slicing through my battered psyche. He seemed to relish the power he held over me.
As he slid the document before me, my trembling hands struggled to hold it. My vision blurred. I could barely register the words on the document before me as my head throbbed from the relentless blows I had suffered.
With his cruel smile and haunting presence, Francisco spoke in a tone that sent shivers down my spine.
"If you sign this, Matteo," he hissed, "all of this will stop. Your precious Sophia and child will be safe from harm, and you can return to your life."
I couldn't believe a word he said. I had seen the depths of his treachery, his willingness to harm even his own family.
Through swollen lips, I spat at him, "Bastardo! I will never believe the word of a deranged man who can even kill his brother."
For a brief moment, surprise flickered across Francisco's features. His malevolent smile wavered before returning, broader and more sinister than before.
"Ah, Matteo, you always had a knack for finding inconvenient truths. It matters not. My actions were necessary."
He went on to reveal the chilling motive behind his heinous acts. "Your father, my brother, refused to do what was necessary. He refused to let the mafia dominate this city. Instead, he weakened us and allowed us to wither. I had to eliminate him to restore the honor and glory of our family."
Listening to Francisco's warped logic filled me with a deep horror. The man was a madman, a zealot who believed his reign of terror was a twisted form of redemption.
I couldn't hold back my words. "You've brought shame to the mafia, not honor."
My defiance seemed to enrage Francisco. With a snarl, he punched my battered body, the pain intensifying with each blow, before leaving with his men. I could hear his voice as he ordered his men not to feed me.
